Prince Hans of Arendelle
by thinkwinkink
Summary: The royal family of the Southern Isles arranges for their youngest son to journey to Arendelle and be married to Princess Elsa the year before she comes of age and takes the throne. This affects the unfolding of the events of the film and its conclusion in a number of ways. Also, Hans isn't straight up nasty in this.
1. Chapter 1

When Hans had stepped onto the ship leaving the Southern Isles, it was with a far greater sense of significance and wistfulness than he had ever felt before when boarding a vessel. Further, it was with far more luggage than he had ever brought on a voyage before. This was because he expected to live and die in another kingdom than his own, the country far to the north called Arendelle. More importantly, his parents expected him to. Their Majesties the King and Queen of the Southern Isles had arranged a marriage for him, to none other than the soon-to-be Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Hans had never expected to marry so well, as the thirteenth son of the King, who was already a grandfather several times over, and presently around twentieth in line to the throne. Rather, he had believed he would marry some lady he met and fancied at court and live out the rest of his days in the Isles; perhaps even marry for love, but that was out the window.

He wasn't bitter, not really. He knew that despite some petty disagreements over the years, his family didn't really want to be rid of him. He felt… subdued, to have to be leaving his homeland, but he would not disappoint his family or his country. It was a fact of royal life that duty came before one's own whims, and when duty called, Hans heeded. He was, however, a little apprehensive about his bride. Several of his brothers were still unmarried, and as they were older and further up the line, more desirable a match for a queen. Wilhelm, a widower and almost twenty years her senior had his obvious drawbacks, but Einar, the ninth prince of the thirteen-strong brood, was four further up the line and thus a better option in that sense, and yet it was Hans who was en route to marry the woman.

The problem was, nobody had seen much at all of the Crown Princess, or her younger sister Princess Anna, for years. Rumours of all sorts flew about physical deformities, mental deficiencies, moral insufficiencies and all manner of things. The fact that the ruler of the country was willing to settle for the thirteenth prince of a neighbouring kingdom, allies or not, without even laying eyes on him was unsettling to say the least. It was a sign of desperation or callousness, Hans judged. But he had not been in on the negotiations, only informed of the plans gently by his mother two months ago. It was possible that the Arendellian party had preferred the prince closest to her in age.

Now, he was an estimated two days from the major port of the Arendellian capital, and would pledge himself to this mysterious Princess Elsa and her realm the day of his arrival. It was to be without fanfare, he understood, which he thought a little odd for such an important royal. He supposed it had something to do with her not being crowned Queen until her twenty-first birthday next year. _Ah, well,_ he thought, _I'm sure there will be plenty of celebrating in a few months at her coronation. At least we'll have more time to get to know each other._

 **I I I**

Commoners had stared at the impressive ship from the south, flying the colours from the distant kingdom Hans hoped he would get to see again at some point in his life. He had wondered as he transferred to a waiting royal carriage if he would need to ask permission to do so of his wife, his new ruler. As much as people took interest in the carriage as it passed, he took an interest in the town outside it.

The whole world looked much bluer, lusher, than in the south, where the air was always warm and the earth and its people sun-baked. Arendelle's houses were charmingly tall and narrow, clustered together as though huddling for warmth. The design of decorations seemed to differ, too. Bright, geometric patterns in favour of the swirls and curls to which he was habituated. Autumn was falling, and Hans wished he had had more experience with the cold, or at least that the cathedral would be heated. They rarely were, though.

Nevertheless, he would have rather gone to the castle on foot. He preferred horseback to a carriage any day, but after so long stuck on a ship he would have enjoyed the exercise. It would have been unseemly though, and perhaps been rather slow given the interest from the locals. Moreover, it would have allowed him to rid himself of some of his nerves. Prince Hans was normally quite confident, but it was important, nay, imperative that things go well, both for the diplomatic and personal relations concerned by the event. He wondered if he would see the princesses before the ceremony. He wondered what language he should speak. Sudais, the language of the Isles? No, it would seem odd and maybe presumptuous. French? Most courts tended to use French often, but what if it made him seem self-important or, worse, like he didn't care for his new home? Arendellian, then. He hoped his knowledge of the foreign tongue didn't desert him; it had never been his strongest suit.

The carriage trundled over a long, stone bridge that led to the castle that would be his home. It looked nothing like the ostentatious Stornburg Palace in which he had been raised, but he thought it beautiful regardless. The surrounding sea would remind him of home though; in the Southern Isles one was never far from the ocean.

With a cry from the coachman, the vehicle rolled to a stop in the main courtyard. Hans ran his hand down his front, checking his attire was in order, before the door was yanked open. He stepped down from the carriage and looked around. The balconies running around the area were empty, save for a few impassive guards, as were any he could see attached to the palace itself. Some large fountains splashed serenely, and despite the small amount of greenery about the cobbled ground was swept clean.

A rotund, maternal-looking woman was waiting by the doors, a young man who was probably a footman behind her. For a split second, he wondered if this was Her Royal Highness, Princess Elsa. But no, he knew she was but twenty, and this woman was clearly far older than his own twenty-four years.

"Your Highness, Prince Hans, welcome to Arendelle," she greeted warmly. _In Arendellian_ , he noted wryly.

"I am Gerda, the housekeeper," the woman continued as he strode toward her, "Let me show you to your room, where you can get ready if you need to."

With that, she ushered him through the large wooden doors, leading him up a grand staircase and down a series of long corridors. While they walked, followed by the silent footman, she prattled about various paintings they passed, the weather and myriad other topics, none the one he really cared for: his bride.

"This is your room, if it pleases you, Your Highness," she said as she drew to a halt in front of a set of double doors decorated in blue and gold. The servant behind him stepped forward and open the doors, and Hans wandered into the room. A pleasant sitting room with a hearty fire, several vases of various blooms, some of which he didn't recognise since they were probably too delicate to survive a sweltering summer, a few bookcases. An open door to one side offered a view of a double four-poster bed, intricately carved, with dark blue, beautiful covers. The opposite wall led to a balcony overlooking the water, facing the docks.

Overall, very pleasant, but completely devoid of personal possessions. Clearly not his bride's room. Not that it really mattered, since he knew full well he wouldn't be spending much time in here. It seemed rather odd, really, to provide him with his own room for an afternoon when he was presumably about to move into that of his enigmatic fiancée. Then again, he needed somewhere to change clothes, and it would be uncomfortable to hang around in his intended's chambers before meeting the woman, and before actually wedding her. In fact, she was probably in there at the moment, and he knew it was bad luck to see her the day of the wedding before the actual ceremony.

He was musing on this, still looking around the room in silence, when it occurred to him that he probably ought to say something. "It pleases me very much, thank you," he said politely, with a gracious nod.

Gerda the Housekeeper seemed rather flattered, murmuring how glad she was and how she hoped he would be comfortable here and so on for a while. A clock on the mantel chimed once, reminding the servants that it was quarter-past midday. "The service starts at half-past one. At one o'clock, Mitchell here will come to show you to the chapel," she informed him, indicating the man at her shoulder. "Don't want to be late now, do we?"

With that, and a few more words of welcome, she bustled off to oversee some last-minute preparations, probably. Alone, Hans wandered the room. Almost an hour to while away. He knew he had better not leave the room, so he looked at the books on the shelves, warmed his gloved hands by the fire, and sniffed the flowers he was unfamiliar with, removing his gloves to feel their texture.

He looked over at the mantel piece when the clock chimed again at half-past. Among the decorative ornaments there, a small, framed portrait. He walked over and picked it up, examining the young woman it portrayed. It would be odd to have a portrait of a random person in a guest room, unless that person was the ruler of the land, particularly if that guest was their betrothed.

The woman stood with one elegant, gloved hand perched on a table, in a winter dress and cloak, a thick fur arranged over one shoulder. She was slender, very fair blonde, and very beautiful. Her face was remote, blank even, but slightly upturned in a way that made her look proud. If it were a true likeness, clearly all rumours pertaining to physical shortcomings preventing the princesses from venturing beyond their walls were false. But as he well knew, portraits tended to show the subject in the light that whoever commissioned them wanted. His mother's portraits never adjusted to reflect her expanding waistline, he had noted. For all he knew, Princess Elsa could be rotund, bald and missing an eye, really. Assuming this was actually her.

With a sigh, he returned the picture to its place. He went into the bedchamber, running his hand along his jaw and looking into the mirror. He had shaved on the ship the morning before they docked, and couldn't see the need to do it again. It was certainly more difficult to wield a razor blade on a deck swaying to and fro than on dry land, but he was fairly well accustomed. He changed into the white dress uniform laid out for him by a valet shortly after Gerda had left, meticulously checking his appearance, then again. He combed his hair with the supplied articles but steered clear of the products on offer, judging it best not to experiment on today of all days. After that, he simply paced the room for the next twenty minutes, until Mitchell arrived to take him to the church.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold outside his rooms had been bracing on the walk over here, but for the handful of minutes where Hans had to stand still, facing the priest, waiting for the bride, it became rather unpleasant. It seemed to grow steadily colder as the moments passed. Arendelle's weather would grow on him, surely. The chapel was fairly empty: an ambassador and clergyman from the Southern Isles to see that everything was done properly and according to the agreement, some staff from the royal household, a few pews' worth of religious figures and some random other people that he couldn't account for. Hans held in a shiver. Normally this getup kept him warmer than he really cared to be, but today it seemed to offer only a feeble resistance to the elements.

His meditations were interrupted by a flurry of activity at the rear of the church, as the doors were pushed open and a young woman with coppery-brown hair bounced into the room, clutching a bouquet of flowers and wearing a largely green frock and one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen. Her excitement carried her a few steps into the church before she seemed to remember herself and she stepped to the side. She seemed rather sweet, but Hans felt somewhat relieved to find she wasn't the blushing bride. Far too young, and apparently lacking the calm presence of mind demanded of a sovereign.

Once the girl had stilled (still bouncing on her toes slightly and gaping around, especially at him), he turned his focus to the doorway. The bright light outside hurt his eyes slightly when compared to the subdued rays filtering through the stained-glass windows. A silhouette was coming through the opening, though, becoming clearer as it approached him.

For a stupid moment, Hans stared and thought she looked like and angel heralding some great tidings from on high. Backlit and softened by the gauzy veil affixed to her glorious head, she was truly a vision. Once properly in the church, though, he could see her properly, and she looked decidedly human, though still strikingly beautiful. She looked much like her portrait; very fair haired, pale skinned, with wide blue eyes and a very serious expression.

The girl, whom he now assumed to be Princess Anna, followed her older sister up the aisle, visibly trying to emulate the monarch's poise and grace as she elegantly advanced towards him. The younger woman, however, kept craning her neck to scrutinise the prince at the altar, though, rather spoiling the effect.

Hans became aware of the sweet music as it grew stronger, the closer they came to the waiting men. With no father to give her away, the bride was the highest authority in the land, and so carefully handed her flowers to her sister and came to stand beside him. Anna stood to the side, enthralled, as the priest began to speak, employing Latin and Arendellian at different times.

His young bride, dressed in white adorned in various blues, stared fixedly ahead, her face frozen in a mask of poised, idle interest. She was much shorter than he, coming up about halfway up his upper arm. Tiara not included. She didn't seem to care a jot about his presence, not so much as glancing at him. The only time she seemed at all aware of his being there was when he shivered, much as he had tried to supress it, and he noticed her face tense into something along the lines of stress, concern and mild panic before twitching back to its original state, though perhaps with a more tightly clenched jaw. Hans was a little confused by this. He certainly didn't think it an indication that he was about to ruin the proceedings by dropping dead. Her entrance must have simply let in more cold air. He wished he could move around a little, but remained as dutifully still as Princess Elsa beside him.

Eventually, the priest asked them to face each other and join hands.

Hans turned to face her and held out his hands for her to place hers in. The Princess, however, flashed that look again, turning at a snail's pace to face him. She stared at his outstretched hands but made no move to place her own in his upturned palms. Her brow furrowed as she slowly raised them, concealed by gloves, breathing deeply and deliberately. Hans tried to hide his confusion, offering an encouraging smile that she didn't see, too focused on the task at hand. Finally, her delicate fingertips touched his palms, and he curled his own fingers around hers. He could feel that they were freezing through their gloves, and rubbed the backs of them gently with his thumbs. She started slightly, and Hans wondered if he were being too forward. Whatever that meant, since they were literally in the middle of getting married.

The priest dictated vows for him to repeat. Fairly standard: be faithful to her and protect and cherish her until he died, et cetera. He repeated the words, trying to look her in the eye as he did so, finding that he meant them more than he had expected. She had a vulnerable quality about her, as though she begged for protection, and he found himself willing to give it. She glanced up rather timidly, and seemed caught in his bold gaze.

Then it was her turn to speak. The priest fed her the first line, and she licked her lips and cleared her throat quietly before taking a breath to speak. There was something about the way she did those little things that made her seem more real to him, and him more devoted to her. When she spoke, making essentially the same promises as he had to her, her voice was strong and clear. It wasn't what he had expected, but he thought it suited her better than the high-pitched lilting he half expected. This voice belonged to a queen. During her own vows, she glanced at the priest, but mostly stared ahead, at the middle of Hans' chest. He hoped she wasn't refusing to meet his eyes because she planned to go back on her word.

Next he instructed them to remove their gloves for the exchanging of the rings. Pulling back his hands, Hans quickly slipped off both gloves and tucked them into his pocket. He then held his hands, now exposed to the biting cold that he could swear just got seriously more severe, out for hers. Hers remained gloved and hovering where he had left them. Her Highness simply stared at them again. Hans waited for a beat, then murmured, "Would you like me to…?" He reached for her left hand, but she squared her shoulders and whispered a declination.

She slid off her left glove, placing it on the pillow Princess Anna had pranced forward to hold out to them. She grinned at each of them in turn, and Hans responded with a jaunty raising of his brow, deeming a wink too much.

He took the smaller of the pair of rings there, lifting her narrow hand in his large one, sliding the ring carefully onto the fourth finger as he again followed the officiant's directions, placing his hand over hers as he finished reciting the words.

As soon as he was done, she withdrew her hand, snatching his ring off the pillow with a shaking hand, gingerly holding his and speeding through the required verbiage and shoving it onto his finger. As soon as that was done, she retrieved her glove and pulled it back on as quickly as possible.

"You may now kiss the bride," the elderly priest declared. Anna clapped quietly from behind Elsa, bouncing up and down again.

Hans slowly pushed back her veil, trying not to notice the way she cringed ever so slightly away from him when he did. Maybe her whole problem was the idea of marrying him. That would certainly explain her odd behaviour. Well, he had plenty of time to prove that he could make a good husband. He slid one hand along her jaw until the ends of his fingers touched the back of her neck, the top two resting in her silky hair. Her big blue eyes only grew wider as he leant toward her, bending to her height to reach her mouth. He noticed his breath clouding in front of him just before he reached her, closing his eyes as their lips met. Hers were slightly open in shock or fear, possibly both, so his own fit perfectly against them. He applied a little pressure, and then drew back after the acceptable amount of time. He noted with some pleasure that she had opened her eyes slightly after him, meaning she hadn't stared at him incredulously the whole time. Would've made for a rather awkward scene, honestly.

Now properly wed, they led the way out of the church into the square. People they passed on the way to the royal carriage looked shocked but pleased to see their monarch, albeit apparently having just married a stranger.

The newlyweds climbed into the carriage, Elsa first, reluctantly accepting his hand to help her up. Hans then realised that Princess Anna was joining them, helping her in before stepping in himself. The sisters sat opposite each other, the younger staring adoringly at the elder, who simply looked uneasy in the direction of the window. Hans slid onto the bench next to his wife.

After a beat of silence, Hans cleared his throat, managing to attract only the gaze of the second sister. "I suppose we haven't really been introduced. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," he said with a seated bow and a bit of mock-seriousness, given the circumstances. Then he cocked his head at the beauty by his side. "Actually, am I? What's my title now?"

"You'll be the Prince Hans of Arendelle, Consort to Queen Elsa of Arendelle after my coronation next year," she answered assuredly. "Until then, you can shall remain Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

"And I presume you are my sister, Princess Anna?" he queried of the energetic girl on the opposite bench.

She nodded vigorously, enough to make him wonder how many pins had been crammed into her hair to make it stay in its perfectly crafted chiffon. "You can just call me Anna if you like. How exciting, to think I have a brother!" she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands delightedly.

Hans laughed. "I'm glad the prospect pleases you, sister. I have plenty of brothers, and I don't think I should be so excited at the idea of another," he replied.

Anna blinked. "How many brothers do you have?" she queried.

"Twelve older brothers. A couple of them pretended I was invisible, literally, for two whole years. But I guess that's what brothers do. Well, except this one, hopefully," he delivered his anecdote jovially, and hoped he wouldn't set himself up to be at odds with the princess. He already deemed that a risk in light of the way she kept staring at her sister, looking star-struck. Perhaps she would resent him for taking up Princess Elsa's time, or intruding on their time together.

She didn't seem troubled by his presence yet, and he doubted she could conceal it if she did. She appeared rather charmingly artless, as though she was the type to act first and be hit by the consequences as much later as possible.

They came to a stop back in the castle courtyard, and Hans alighted and helped the princesses do the same. Though really Elsa should have been first, Anna seemed determined to be out in the open, jumping down and pulling her hand from his in order to run to one of the fountains where a family of ducks had come to rest. Hans tried to hide his surprise standing straight and offering his hand, now back in its glove, to his bride, noting meanwhile that Anna had managed to get right near the ducklings without frightening them away. One hopped into her outstretched hand as he watched.

At length, his wife placed her hand in his and stepped out of the carriage, snatching it back as soon as she could. Even when she touched him, it was with the slightest pressure and only with a few fingertips. With her head held regally high, she made to walk into the castle. Hans offered his arm, but she ignored it, striding into the castle. He wondered if he should follow, and decided to hang around the younger princess for a while. If he was needed, he was sure she could send for him.

He walked up to Anna, where she sat on the side of the fountain, talking to the pair of ducklings cradled in her cupped hands. "I'm impressed. I've never found wild animals to be so trusting," he commented. The little balls of down shrank back at the sound of his voice.

She turned to him with a happy smile, swinging her legs. Hans wondered how old she was. "You just have to show them that you don't want to hurt them, and they don't have any reason to fear you. Then they won't," she informed him confidently. She swung her arms towards him, and the frightened baby birds flapped their tiny wings ineffectually.

Despite her simplistic declarations, he had no idea how to do what she suggested. He wondered if she was maybe a bit simple. He had heard that animals could sense such things and knew not to fear those people. He stared at the birds, which stared back, trapped. Bending at the waist, he gave a deep bow. Making his voice as unthreatening as possible, trying to soften his demeanour with all his might, he told them pleasantly, "Hello, I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

He straightened. Anna looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged in return. He really didn't know anything about ducklings. "Was that Sudais?" she asked.

"Yes. One tends to speak in one's mother tongue when talking to animals. Sometimes even when distracted... I suppose it's lucky I didn't have to memorise the vow then," he joked. Sometimes it slipped out when he was focusing more on how he was speaking rather than what he said. "I suppose Arendellian ducks only speak Arendellian. I meant to say, 'good day to you'," he added to the ducks.

Anna laughed, and something seemed to have appeased the birds because they calmed, even making throaty noises to join in with the girl's mirth. Removing his gloves, he held a hand next to the princess's and she allowed one of the ducklings to waddle onto it. He stroked its little head, laughing quietly, before depositing it back into the basin of water.

"So, I have to ask…" Hans started on the more serious topic, leaning against the stone next to his sister-in-law. "Princess Elsa doesn't seem… particularly…" he trailed off, unsure how to describe her behaviour.

Anna placed her duckling back into the fountain and shifted to face him. "She never does. I don't think it's anything personal," she said, furrowing her brow unhappily. She sighed, looking more subdued than he would have thought possible for the girl. "We used to be close, when we were kids, and then one day she just… shut me out. And I never found out why. She's always in her room, or in the study, doing paperwork, writing letters, I don't really know. All the ministers and advisors write proposals and advice or feedback, and she reads them and decides what to do. I've never heard anyone complain that she ignores the advice, but she doesn't have meetings like Papa used to."

Hans was surprised. Was this isolation self-inflicted? He couldn't think of another reason for it, or who else would impose it on the sovereign. "Does she at least eat with you?" he asked, wondering how far she drove herself into this solitude.

"No, she eats alone. Ever since the gates have been closed, she doesn't leave the castle. After Mama and Papa… Well, nobody sees her much," Anna recounted sadly. This part of the story was very familiar to him, as courts the world over buzzed with gossip about the royal family becoming more reclusive, the king and queen leaving their daughters behind when attending any functions. Upon their death at sea, the princesses, guided by their advisors until Elsa came of age and could formally ascend, ought to have stepped up and filled the gap their parents had left behind. They had not.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's always a bit uncomfortable when there's a delay in the new monarch's ascension, I understand. I think it more than likely that your sister is waiting to formally become Queen before she publically takes up the role. If I were she, I would certainly be studying up to make sure I knew everything I could about how Arendelle runs. I'm sure everyone thought she'd have much more time, be much older before she came to the throne," he suggested. He wanted to soothe her, but he was hopeful that what he suggested was the underlying cause. He was mystified as to why Elsa suddenly severed ties with her own family so young though.

The enigma presented by his wife would certainly occupy his time though, so he wouldn't be bored in his new home.


	3. Chapter 3

Elsa didn't send for him, and he ended up eating dinner with Anna in one of the smaller dining rooms. She assured him they need not wait for her sister as she always ate in her own rooms. It was most unusual, but Hans acquiesced given that the table was only set for two. His sole companion maintained her excitement throughout the meal, requesting accounts of his travels and his homeland, for she herself had never left her kingdom and was rarely able to leave the castle grounds. After dinner, she took him on a tour of the gardens.

Not long before midnight, he managed to suggest they retire during a brief pause in the princess's energetic conversation. As they walked along the corridor that contained the royal suites, Hans realised he wasn't sure if he should return to his room from before or that of Princess Elsa. He decided it was quite unlikely that she would welcome his company, and decided to try his own room first. If his possessions weren't there, then he'd knock on his bride's door.

Clearing his throat, Hans posed to the amiable girl a question that had been on his mind since the frosty reception at the altar. "Anna, tell me, do you know who was responsible for arranging the union between your sister and I?"

She blinked. "Why?" she asked innocently.

"I can't help but notice that Princess Elsa doesn't seem to…" he grappled with the wording, not wanting to give fodder to the rumours that would circulate about the royal pair eventually anyway, since he had a feeling that Anna might blurt out anything he told her to anyone who would listen. "She doesn't seem to have much need of a husband."

She frowned. "Well, I don't know for sure, but I think she would have organised it with the help of her advisors. Who would have been on your side?" she queried.

He shrugged. "Father, Mother, a few advisors, probably some of my brothers. The usual. I am glad to hear, though, that she probably hasn't married me completely against her will, then," he responded casually.

They stopped outside a door decorated predominantly in pink and red, presumably Anna's suite. She looked vaguely troubled at the thought of her sister being forced into marriage. He wished her goodnight, and she brightened to return the gesture before retiring.

He continued down the corridor to the room to which he had been assigned. By now, his cases had been brought in, his possessions unpacked. Hans let the door swing shut, stripping off the gloves that went with his formal garb as he strolled into the bedroom. A set of nightclothes were folded neatly on the bed.

Alone, Hans indulged in a rather un-princely gesture, tucking his hands in his pockets and letting out a dramatic sigh. Was this his life for the foreseeable future? It seemed so.

 **I I I**

A week after his arrival, Hans was introducing his sister to his personal mount, Sitron, who had been shipped all the way from the Isles to remain with his master. She laughed when he leaned into the hand she used to tickle under his chin. As they chatted, Hans came to a realisation.

"You know, I don't think I've laid eyes on Princess Elsa since we got back from the church," he said.

Anna nodded, more melancholy than usual. "I told you, she keeps to herself. At around seven o'clock in the morning, if you're up, she goes from her room to the study. If you're somewhere along the way, you can see her," she offered. Depressingly, it seemed to be a serious suggestion.

He eyed her sceptically. "Will she actually talk to me even if I do?" he asked.

Her brow wrinkled. "If you ask her something, she'll probably answer," she said cagily.

He laughed humourlessly. "So not really."

She pouted, but he continued to gaze at her with a raised eyebrow. "Fine. Not really. If you ask too many questions, she'll make you leave her alone, anyway," she admitted.

"Maybe if I annoy her enough she'll annul the marriage," he commented under his breath. It wasn't that he was desperate to return home; far from it, he rather liked Arendelle and the younger of its princesses, even if she could be a little superficial, and he hadn't been away long enough to forget that the Southern Isles and its ruling family had serious flaws of their own. However, he was a little irritated that he had been effectively sold to the future Queen in return for diplomatic and economic benefits, probably, and she didn't even care to talk to him more than once. Furthermore, now that they were married he was apparently subjected to the same house-arrest as Anna. In the short term, the respite was relaxing and there were books and grounds and Anna to pass the time, but he knew he would tire of them eventually. His skills in diplomacy, language, warfare, and almost every aspect of his royal training was going to waste as he hung around the castle of his hermit-esque wife.

Until she decided to step up and be Queen properly, he was doomed to a very mundane existence. He could only hope that when Anna came of age, her sister would convince whomever she picked to marry her off to that they might live in Arendelle Castle. Unlikely, but Hans didn't like the thought of being left alone with the few staff and spectre of a Queen that would be his only other companions.

When he returned to his rooms after dinner that evening, there was an envelope on the bureau by the window in the corner which he never used. He had only written a few letters, to assure his family that he had arrived safely and a few to some friends, but he did that in a drawing room downstairs, reluctant to apparently abandon Anna even for one evening – for someone so permanently chipper, she was rather sensitive to slights, probably because of the constant rejection from her sister.

Normally the post was delivered at breakfast in the East Dining Room, a cosy room furnished in green where they ate in the morning sunlight that streamed through the large windows, so the fact that this correspondence was placed here was unusual. Perhaps it was sent express, meaning it contained tidings of some urgency. He strode over and picked it up, brow furrowing in confusion.

The note clearly hadn't been posted, as it was crisp and flat, and had no postmark. It was addressed simply to 'Prince Hans', written on the front in an elegant, ornate hand. Being hand delivered, he would have suspected some joke from Anna, but he had seen her handwriting, and the slightly chaotic scrawl of his sister looked nothing like this, feminine and delicate, but practiced to perfection.

With a shrug, he turned it over. There was no seal to give away its author, and the top of the envelope was simply tucked into the lower part. Hans flicked it open and unfolded the solitary page within. "Prince Hans," it read.

 _I am writing to inform you of the upcoming visit from an ambassador of Corona this Friday, the 22_ _nd_ _. Sir Isaac of Esteburg be spending the day here in the castle. I ask that you make yourself available in the morning to greet him, and at dinner that evening. There will be negotiations during the day, and while you will be welcome to attend you are free to spend that part of the day according to your usual routine as it pleases you._

 _Princess Elsa_

Well. If there was ever any doubt that Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Elsa had married him with no desire to actually be married to him, this was proof. Instead of telling him something that would have taken seconds to explain, she chose to write a letter and leave it for him to find in order to avoid spending even a moment with him that she didn't have to. Or, more likely, she had had a servant leave it for him, as he couldn't picture the elusive blonde stealing into his room to leave the note. Clearly, though, she didn't dislike him personally enough to keep him out of official duties.

In fact, he doubted very much she could have any feelings with regard to him personally at all. They had spent all of an hour in each other's company, most of that in silence while a minister droned on. He, at least, was able to construct a vague idea of her character from accounts given by Anna, some of the servants, and the Minister for the Interior, Sir Ivan, whom he had happened across the previous day as he left a proposal in an ornate box outside Elsa's study for her perusal, in addition to his own observations.

He tossed the letter back onto the desk. There was nothing to be done until the day the ambassador arrived. Maybe then he would be able to talk to his wife, perhaps their first real conversation.

 _A/N: Thanks so much everyone for the encouraging comments, it makes me want to keep the updates coming! As for my other Helsa story, 'The Twelfth Prince', I'll probably write something more for it in the future, but I'm not really sure where exactly I want to take Hans' character yet. I'm always open to suggestions!_


	4. Chapter 4

On Friday, Hans woke even earlier than usual, just as the sun was rising. He dressed in a suit appropriate for the occasion, leaving the more formal dress uniform in the armoire until dinner. He walked out onto his balcony to admire the sunrise as he fastened the buttons on his shirt, cravat slung over his shoulder. The air was still and crisp, typical of Arendelle, but Hans enjoyed the bracing air more and more as he became accustomed to it. The emptiness that lingered of the night's silence meant that he was able to hear a quiet noise breach the stillness. It sounded like a small, feminine gasp. Confused, Hans looked around. There were no women on his terrace, only a small table, a pair of chairs, some potted plants and a few sculptures of mythical beasts. To his left, he could see another balcony, similar to his own, which he knew belonged to Anna, and several without the furnishings that he guessed attached to empty guest suites. His sister-in-law wouldn't be awake yet, let alone outside; he always spent the first few hours of the day amusing himself, as he liked to rise early and Anna definitely did not.

He turned his head to the right. There was only one more balcony on this face of the castle, on this floor. The master suite, Elsa's rooms, were those that lead to what was more an elaborate patio. A trellis with some type of climbing plant blocked it from view – or would have done had not most of its leaves turned brown and fallen off. As it was, it only obscured his view. He could see that it seemed to have statues and more furniture, more pots too. He glimpsed movement a moment before a door closed. Whoever had been there, most likely the standoffish princess, had retreated inside. But why? She had probably wanted to admire the sunrise, and it was definitely easier to that from this side of a window. Maybe it was the cold that bothered her. He looked down at himself. Boots, trousers and an open shirt that revealed much of his chest. Perhaps she had been shocked by his state of undress, or she was similarly unpresentable. Or maybe she was just horrified by the idea of remaining in proximity in the case that it could qualify as willingly spending time with her husband. Hans shrugged, returning his gaze the vibrant colours painted across the sky, the gentle waves, the minute stirring of leaves on the evergreens in the wooded area across the water. After a few minutes, the thin linen shirt wasn't enough to protect him from the chill, and he scurried back inside, sliding into his waistcoat, jacket and coat, returning with a book. He sat there for an hour, admiring the beautiful country he now called home, and reading only a few pages of the tome he held before him, on the subject of Coronan art.

Picturesque as the scene before him was, the sky now a pale blue with thick clouds on the horizon, the cold was getting a little uncomfortable, and Hans was a very active sort of person. He strode through the castle, depositing the book on a table in his room on his way through and out into one of the gardens. He strolled along, taking stock of the now familiar trellises, fountains, paths and plants. He longed to see the flowers in bloom, the entirety of the grounds alive and thrumming in the summer, but he supposed that would come with time. He had been reminded that this far north there would never be the same heat and energy that he took for granted as a part of the season, and a small part of him ached for home. He had faith, though, that the Arendellian summer would offer delights of its own, and he would come to cherish them over the years. God willing, by the time he died, he would have spent more time here than he had in the Isles, so perhaps it would come to seem the natural way of things and the sweltering heat an oddity and inconvenience he remembered but was glad to be rid of. He doubted it would go that far, though.

He crossed the lawn below his own balcony, where last week, Anna had insisted she was better at any feat of acrobatics he cared to name, and he had disagreed. She had explained that she and her sister had learned to cartwheel on this very spot, and she had improved her skills since childhood. Unfortunately for the princess, Hans was unburdened by a corset or full skirt, and had spent years in the Southern Isles' Royal Navy. True, he wore more constrictive attire than he would at sea, but it was a minor hindrance and he had far outperformed her. It was remarkable, really. He had walked on his hands for the amusement of a young lady he had come to honestly care for. Such affection would have been a dangerous thing at court back home, but spending time with Anna was easy, and without political motive. It was liberating. When she had pouted and pushed him over, he had only laughed, knowing there was no malice behind the gesture, affirmed by her concern when he had feigned an injury. With his real siblings, especially when a large number gathered, there was genuine competition for favour from those with power and their parents, and Hans, as the youngest and therefore least important, was either ignored or ridiculed. In many ways, Arendelle was a far better home to him than the Isles had ever been. And to his delight, such a sentiment was now nationalistic rather than traitorous, thanks to his otherwise largely fruitless marriage.

He checked his pocket watch. Nearly eight o'clock, meaning he had just over an hour before he had to go to the throne room to await the ambassador's arrival. He entertained the idea of rousing Anna, just for something to do, but quickly dismissed it. The servants would certainly take care of it, and he had made the mistake of waking her once before and was in no great hurry to repeat the experience.

Glancing around the area, he noticed that one of the stone archways that adorned the bordering the lawn, many of which lead nowhere and were simply decorated with paintings or mirrors while others lead to other gardens, was thickly overgrown with vines and bushes. He slowly approached it, wondering why it had been left to grow wildly enough to obscure the passage, at odds with the rest of the grounds, which were kept immaculate. Until now, he had thought that the shrubbery had simply been encouraged to cover up the blank stone wall, but he was sure that it covered a doorway.

Now directly before the arch, he raised a hand to push through the greenery. There were bare sticks here; perhaps the thinning of foliage is what had afforded the better comprehension of what he saw, compounded by his boredom. Before he could take a peek, though, the sensation of being watched registered in the back of his mind, demanding attention. He turned slowly, scanning the lawn and paved patio along the castle wall. Empty. He cast his eye over the higher floors, but nobody was standing on any of the balconies he could see. The twitch of a curtain caught his eye. Elsa's room. He thought, for a moment, that he could see her platinum blonde hair through the glass, but she or whatever was reflected in the windowpane moved and he no longer could. He didn't know why, but he felt as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. With a last, curious look over his shoulder at the archway, he walked back toward the castle.

It was probably better that he left it, at least for now, as it would be a bad idea to get lost or injured or mess up his clothing immediately before the arrival of a foreign dignitary. He went back to his room, removing his coat as he would likely spend the rest of the day indoors, checking his hair and cravat were in order. He knew, having spent time as a courtier overseas before his marriage, that due to Arendelle's rather closed-off nature since the death of the late king, Arendelle played host to very few diplomats, and never for long. Whenever an ambassador dealt with the country in person, their report was widely repeated across the region. Each one sparked new rumours about the reclusive royals and reasons for their limited interaction with foreigners and their own subjects. It was important that they make a good impression on Sir Ivan.

Still meditating on Arendelle's unusual political position, Hans pulled open his door and strode into the hallway. To his surprise, his wife was in the corridor, heading toward the stairs, away from their rooms. She didn't turn at the sound the door made, but he couldn't be sure if she had heard him or was genuinely ignorant that he walked not far behind her. He took the time to observe her rather than catching up to her and attempting conversation.

She walked sedately, looking controlled and graceful rather than relaxed. Her posture was perfect, but she seemed stiff rather than confident. He couldn't see her face, though, so it wasn't possible to be certain how she felt. Her gleaming, fair hair was twisted into an elegant chiffon with intricate braiding, a small tiara tucked into it. Her dress was of a rich fabric, a deep blue with black and green decoration. She was slight, like he remembered, and not particularly tall. He recalled the way he had had to stoop to kiss her they first and last time they had met. He trailed behind her all the way to the throne room, pausing at the door to fiddle with his gloves and clothing before entering. It was a flimsy attempt to avoid the obvious, that he had been right behind her but avoided walking with her.

Straightening, he marched into the throne room. Anna had pointed it out, but he had never more than stuck his head in the door. Coming in through the double doors that lead from the antechamber of the castle, one was presented with a long, purple carpet leading to the pair of thrones where the king and queen would sit during audiences. Or in this case, the Princess Regent. He imagined that he might sit there once she were crowned Queen and he Prince Consort. The door through which they had entered was at the side of the room, only a few strides from the plinth upon which the intricate, gilded chairs sat. There was a discreet servants' entrance on the opposite side.

Princess Elsa stood near her throne, and Hans moved swiftly to stand by her side. He had every intention of presenting their visitor with the impression that they were a united front, even if they didn't know the first thing about each other. Not only for the vague but important goal of keeping up appearances, but he was well aware that whatever news this man took from here would soon enough reach the ears of his family, and he didn't want it to be reports of a failed marriage and useless prince. He had been reprimanded for being useless enough times to last a lifetime, and very much hoped to avoid such accusations in the future.

They really had nothing to do until their guest arrived, so simply stood together in silence. Hans resolved to say something; he wished to improve their relations and refusing to acknowledge her wasn't going to aid his cause. He turned to look at her, having to tilt his chin down to properly gaze at her eye-level. When he did, however, he was surprised to find her looking back, staring up at him with her wide blue eyes. He noted that the deep blue of her dress matched her irises exactly. She graced him with a small, shy smile, which he found himself returning, though more confidently, wider.

"How are you today, Your Highness?" he questioned politely. He wasn't sure how to address her. A married couple, in private, would normally go by Christian names, but they weren't exactly close. It seemed a little disrespectful to just leave the question without any term of address, so he went with 'Your Highness', but added a touch of humour to the phrase to soften the formality.

Her eyes widened slightly, as though his question surprised her. "Well, thank you," she replied quietly. "I trust you are settling in well to your new home here?" she asked, with a hint of hesitance he found slightly confusing, but oddly charming.

"Indeed I am. Princess Anna has been most welcoming," he said. As soon of the words were out of his mouth, he realised he sounded rather more pointed than he had meant to. "I must thank you for your hospitality," he added in an effort to include her in his approval, though it made him sound more temporary than a husband ought to be, "Arendelle is even more beautiful than I expected it to be, though I have heard people sing its praises, and seen paintings before."

She smiled a little wider. "I'm glad to hear it," she said simply with a dignified nod. She looked away from him then, looking back to the gothic arched windows lining the wall that looked out into the courtyard. They let the morning sun stream in, falling on the suits of armour bearing the coats of arms of various prestigious houses of the kingdom, lined up against the stone wall adorned with banners bearing the crocus that was the symbol of Arendelle, along with a few tapestries.

More interesting to Hans than the decoration of the fancy throne room, more noble for its simplicity than the ostentatious one in the palace at the Southern Isles capital, was the young woman by his side. He sensed he was staring, perhaps making her uncomfortable, so he lifted his head and pretended to look out the windows with her while still watching her from the corner of his eye. She was very pale, probably naturally of a snowy complexion, but made whiter by a total lack of sunlight. She seemed to live her whole life indoors, as far as he could tell. The light fell across her delicate features and caught on her platinum hair. He could not have asked for a more beautiful bride, one thing was for certain. He was glad she wasn't ridiculously corseted and adorned in ribbons and furs to within an inch of her life and topped in wigs half her own height, as was the fashion in some circles of wealthy courtiers. She had the regal elegance of a queen, he thought, but the shyness was at odds with her royal bearing.

He had judged that she was keeping him at arm's length intentionally, but perhaps she was merely too timid to demand his presence, which he would have expected. Working on the idea that she was hesitant before haughty, he decided to push the conversation on even if she seemed content in silence.

"You know, I had expected to miss the Isles far more than I do," he mused. It wasn't entirely true – he did miss the Isles a little, but since it came with a rather unpleasant set of obligations to his parents and brothers, had been determined to make the most of his departure.

She turned back to face him, looking interested. "Oh? Why do you think that is?" she inquired.

"The Southern Isles are very beautiful, though I may be a little biased. Warm most of the year, hot the rest of it," he explained, eliciting a tiny giggle from the princess which she hid behind her hand, "But full of colour and life. You can almost always hear the ocean, because most of the islands are quite small; there is no mainland. So it's… comforting to be so close to the water here. But Arendelle is so different, it's a little shocking. That being said, I can't fault it, apart from perhaps the cold."

Her expression was keenly focused as he spoke, rather to his surprise. "Well, I've never been outside our borders, so I can't compare it to any other climate, but during the summer it's quite pleasant. The mountains don't thaw, so the ice trade continues, but in the towns it's rather warm," she said.

He didn't buy it, certain he would be underwhelmed by the temperature, but he listened attentively nonetheless. Her voice was lovely, not weak but gentle, strong but smooth. He could listen to her for hours, no matter what she said. He would listen to her read a dictionary and probably still have a good time.

"But what do you find to be so markedly different between the two?" she asked.

Hans drew breath to respond, but the door was flung open and Anna burst into the room. Her hair was pulled back rather than in the dual braid that she normally sported, and she wore a pink and blue frock with white lace that reminded him of the white streak in her coppery hair.

"Phew, I'm not late. I mean, sorry I'm late, but at least it isn't, y'know, too late," she blurted out as she stepped onto the platform to stand on Hans' other side. Too busy blushing at her sister, she tripped on the step.

With a resigned air, he grabbed her elbow to steady her. He had become accustomed to her unconsidered movements, or 'clumsiness' if he was being realistic. Already she had slapped him across the face while gesticulating, knocked his teacup over a balustrade and thrown the teapot shortly afterwards, stepped on various appendages whether he sat on the ground or stood, and hit him with a shoe.

With an awkward titter and murmured thankyou, she took up her place and fell silent. Her presence made it much harder to feel at ease. He was actually a little put out that she had interrupted; he felt his interaction with Elsa was going rather well.

Before he could come up with a course of action, a carriage could be seen rolling up to the castle. Hans straightened his clothes again by force of habit and drew himself up to his full height. He had tried to subtly diminish the difference in stature between himself and his wife in an attempt to seem less imposing. He noticed Anna bouncing slightly, watching the activity outside in anticipation, and on his other left hand side, Elsa looking over her younger sister, checking everything was in place, turning back to the room with a tiny satisfied nod. Hans felt strangely touched by the action. Anna felt that Elsa didn't care for her, or at least not enough to overcome whatever had caused her to be shut away from such a young age. He had just observed Elsa caring for her sister, though she remained unaware, and he was sure this was but one of many instances. Elsa was distant, but not cold, he concluded.

The double doors pushed open, and past the servants strode a well-dressed, rather rotund man with a moustache. He bowed low, as did the two younger men behind him, when they came close to the waiting royalty. "Sir Ivan, Ambassador for Corona, Your Highnesses," he declared. When they stood upright, he continued. "My assistants, Mr Rexburg and Mr Vandergarten," he said, gesturing at each man in turn.

"A pleasure. May I present my husband, Prince Hans, and my sister, Princess Anna," she said, eliciting smiles and respectful head dips, which the pair acknowledged with nods of their own. "Welcome to Arendelle. I am glad to see that you have arrived safely. I hope your journey was pleasant?"

Hans was impressed. She seemed much more secure talking to these men than she did with him. Maybe because she was comfortable outranking them? But she outranked him, too, as future Queen, while he would only be Prince Consort.

The middle-aged man chortled. "I'm afraid it was no better than could be expected, Your Highness. The seas between our nations are rarely calm at this time of year. But we have arrived none the worse for wear, so you'll not hear me complaining," he answered good-naturedly. Mr Rexburg, though, looked like he disagreed heartily with the ambassador's statement, and turned slightly green.

Elsa smiled and nodded exchanging a few more pleasantries before suggesting they move to a conference room to address the matters which the delegation had come to discuss. Kai, the royal steward, led the trio out.

As soon as they were gone, Anna tugged on Hans' elbow, trying to pull him towards the door. "Hans, come on, I have to show you something," she instructed when he didn't budge. He raised an eyebrow and she pulled harder, leaning back to add her body weight.

"Anna, let go," he said, holding back laughter as she squealed and toppled over. She marched around and pushed against his back, but he leaned toward her and dug in his heels, not giving an inch. "Anna, I'm going to the meeting."

In his peripheral vision he saw Elsa's head turn sharply to face him. Anna marched around to stand in front of him again. She made a face. "Why?" she asked, sounding horrified and confused rather than curious.

"Because I want to know more about Arendelle and the way it works, because I'd like to be of use at some point, because I was trained in negotiation as part of my education, and because numbers in the room are important. Why else would an ambassador need two assistants for one day's work, especially one who apparently gets seasick?" he rattled off a few points in quick succession, leaving little room for argument.

Anna pouted. "It'll be really boring," she pointed out. Receiving unfaltering expressions from her companions she shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself. I will say I told you so," she warned as she flounced out of the room. Hans stared after her with an indulgent expression for a beat, then offered his arm to Elsa.

She cringed back, reminding him of the last time he had attempted the gesture. He didn't understand her reaction; it was a routine courtesy, one that would have been extended by any man, even one whose ring she didn't wear. He pretended he didn't notice, waiting patiently for her to accept his silent offer.

At length, she edged closer, extending a gloved hand to place it in the crook of his arm. Even through their clothes, he could swear he could feel how cold it was, and he placed his other hand over hers to both keep it in place and offer a bit of extra warmth. As they walked side by side (though his wife turned her face away from him and extended her arm as much as possible to put space between them), he mused on this. He had just noticed that it was rather chilly in the room, and then the corridor, but her hand was practically glacially cool. Maybe she had some kind of long-term illness that was the reason for her seclusion. He didn't think she looked sickly though, slender and pale rather than wraith-like and pallid. But then again, she could just have cold hands. She did seem rather attached to her gloves, he had noticed at the wedding. He only wore them for formality or to protect his hands from wear and tear during horse riding and the like, but for some they certainly offered much-needed warmth. In fact, he may well join their ranks if the winter here lived up to his expectations.

They entered the room and the waiting men stood briefly in greeting. Elsa took her seat at the head of the table, Hans in the seat to her right. Next to him sat three advisors, and across the gleaming wood were the three Coronans. There were a few crystal decanters containing wine, brandy and the like along glasses in the middle of the table, but Hans poured himself and the princess a glass of water. He wasn't averse to alcohol, but he knew better than to indulge when sharp focus was the order of the day. In giving his wife a glass he not only encouraged her to abstain – which he felt unnecessary as she seemed too cautious a person to drink during the day – but it was a gesture demonstrating that he sought to care for her, presenting a united front to the visitors but also should reassure Elsa that he was here to support her. He noticed she looked slightly daunted as he placed the glass before her, eying the object fearfully for a moment as it cheerfully bounced the sunlight into tiny rainbows from decorative facets.

She dragged her eyes forward and sat up straighter in her chair, which impressed Hans because her back never seemed anything other than ramrod straight. "Gentlemen, let's get down to business," she addressed the table.


	5. Chapter 5

Hans looked surreptitiously at the clock against the wall. They had been here for more than three hours. Essentially, the two small nations were looking to tighten up their trading relationship to circumvent having to access each other's goods primarily through the major port in the whole region, located in the group of small land masses to the south known as the Southern Isles. To trade directly would mean faster supply, since it was rather out of the way to journey all the way to Drulyon Port, and cheaper cost given it would no longer be taxed in the Isles. Most shipping routes passed through Drulyon anyway, though, since it was the easiest way to find buyers and sellers if one were in need, or to resupply, repair or hire crewmen. Moreover, as such a hub of commerce, there was a strong naval and military presence in the area (overseen by Princes Alexander and Amund respectively), so it offered a sense of security for legitimate traders. But to establish an exception could be mutually beneficial, which was the reason for Ambassador Ivan's visit.

Textiles and timber, Arendelle's most prestigious exports, were to be offered in some undecided amount in return for livestock and crops from Corona. In directly trading, there was a lessened opportunity for price negotiation, meaning stipulations had to be included in the agreement, along with how much was to be set aside for the relationship. These were the details they couldn't seem to agree on.

Elsa had been fair but unbending, staring down her opponents with unflinching determination and proposing counter offers, but it was slow going and he could see her hands balled into fists on her lap beneath the table. The ambassador's kindly demeanour was becoming strained, too. Hans had remained fairly quiet, lacking an intricate understanding of crown affairs, offering more general opinions in support of his wife. He hoped the deal panned out, not only because it was good for their citizens or so that he wouldn't have wasted an entire day sitting in a chilly room listening to repetitive arguments, but because the Southern Isles' Minister for Trade Abroad was Prince Karl, the seventh son of King Haldor. Missing out on a slice of this lucrative deal as they had been enjoying previously would be vexing indeed, and he was put out with Karl at the moment.

Court in the Southern Isles was a constant political game, and the princes were as determined to play as anyone. Prince Albin, the tenth son, had recently gifted their mother with a rare tapestry she had coveted for some time for her birthday, outdoing the other princes, which had been incredibly inconvenient for Karl, who had been trying to butter her up in anticipation for some manoeuvre he was planning. Albin, who was the most introspective and avidly academic of any of his brothers, had fallen for some low-ranking noble who seemed to genuinely return his affections. He sought to have her father elevated so that she would be a more suitable match. Karl, enlisting the help of his slightly younger twin Prince Kasper, had endeavoured to embarrass the girl – Emilie, Hans remembered – and thwart Albin's hopes of marrying her. Hans had wised up to the plan in the nick of time, and grudgingly taken the fall himself, ending up thrown in a fountain and slightly singed for his trouble. On the bright side, he was comforted by the fact that it was done in service of one of his gentlest relatives and Emilie, who was shaping up to be his most pleasant sister-in-law by far (excluding Anna). He felt Karl had gone too far, and would go for any chance to teach him a lesson in the next year or so, until he felt the score had been settled.

A harrumph from the ambassador snapped Hans out of his reverie. "Is it customary in Arendelle to freeze negotiators into submission?" he asked, crossing his arms and pulling his jacket tighter around his form. He probably meant the question to sound jocular, but they were all rather too fed up by that point for it to work.

Elsa tensed at the comment, and Hans would have sworn she actually managed to go paler. He took that as his cue to jump in. "Apologies, gentlemen. I'll have someone tend to the fire, perhaps while we adjourn for luncheon," he suggested.

Everyone looked relieved at his words, filing out of the room to be lead to one of the dining rooms by the footmen standing by the door. Hans stopped a maid in the hallway, asking that she have the room made as warm as possible while it was vacant, to which she agreed pleasantly.

When Hans caught up to the group, Anna was just about to walk into the room. He offered an arm, which she took with a grin as she launched into her characteristic high-speed chatter. After a brief rundown of her morning, she took a breath. They were seated next to each other, Elsa at the head of the table on Hans' other side. "How was the trade discussion?" she asked, pursing her lips at the thought. At least she had the good grace to lower her voice and lean in towards him.

"You would have found it boring," he answered honestly, taking a sip of his wine. He was allowing himself one glass – it was the challenge he prepared himself for, but he wanted to be lucid enough to be of help should Elsa suddenly decide to involve him. She had ignored his presence for the entirety of the meeting, and Hans thought it likely she would do the same for the second half.

"I know. I went to one of those things once. I listened to four men with grey beards argue over the price of pottery for nearly an hour before I escaped. At least I think it as pottery… That was a year ago and I haven't been tempted to try again since," she complained.

He smiled, but tried to cover it by rubbing his cheek. "You don't sound like you even attempted to pay attention," he pointed out quietly.

"I spent most of the time looking at one of the delegates; his moustache was uneven," she defended herself.

Hans muffled his laughter in his napkin. "And how did you 'escape', pray tell?" he queried, fighting to keep a straight face.

"I pretended to faint and knocked over a potted plant," she said nonchalantly. "The thing with the pot plant was an accident, mind you," she added as an afterthought.

Hans nodded, sitting back upright, chuckling quietly. He happened to glance over at the beauty at the head of the table, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression. When their eyes met, she held his gaze for a beat, before they flicked to her sister for a moment and then away. Hans frowned. He never could place the way she regarded him. Indifference, resentment, shyness, interest, he had no idea. At times, he leaned toward any one of them, but he couldn't really decide how she felt. She was very guarded, hard to read. He was good at reading people, though, and she was the most interesting thing in Arendelle Castle. He would continue to observe her, gathering information until he could establish her character in a more meaningful way.

 **I I I**

Hans was back in his room, preparing for the banquet that was being thrown for the benefit of their visitors. He was fairly certain Elsa wouldn't have done even that could she have avoided it, but to not even invite the men to stay overnight at the least was already bordering on impolite; their visit had to be marked in some way. As he understood it, a few local aristocrats would be joining them, plus the captain and first lieutenant from the Coronan ship, _The Lady Annalise_. Apart from that, it was to be the three resident royals, some advisors, the ambassador and his assistants.

He was a little tired of all of their company, to be honest. He had been far too inactive for far too long. He hadn't taken Sitron for a real ride, practiced his swordplay, or done anything physically challenging in an age, and Hans loved to push himself. The day couped up in that room that alternated between stuffy and uncomfortably cool, arguing over essentially nothing, had seriously exacerbated the problem. He heaved a sigh and left the room with a final once over, making sure his smart white naval uniform was immaculate. He would make the best of the likely less-than-lively dinner party for tonight, and tomorrow he would take advantage of his long legs and simply run if he had to, just do something to get his blood pumping.

Elsa exited her room at the same time as he did, now sporting a deep green dress with a fuller skirt and long sleeves, a short cape in lavender that fell to about the back of her knees and gloves that matched. She wore a gold tiara with a large ruby and several smaller stones, and a ruby on a light yellow ribbon around her neck. She looked resplendent as ever, and like a startled deer, her hand clutching the handle as she closed her door and eyes wide, as though she had been caught doing something forbidden.

Hans offered a kind smile and a deep bow. "Good evening, Your Highness. You look lovely," he said pleasantly.

She slowly moved away from her door, composing herself. Her shoulders looked racked with tension, but she nodded in acknowledgement, the gesture measured and controlled. "Thank you, Prince Hans," she responded formally, before walking past him, quickly but gracefully, stepping lightly.

He blinked at her abruptness, but quickly caught up with his longer stride. He shivered as he fell into step beside her, eying the windows and wondering if they were the culprits, allowing the cold to seep in randomly. Perhaps the catches were rusted and blew open. Something really ought to be done about that.

He didn't want to walk in the heavy silence, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Elsa exuded a sense of unreachability, like no matter what he said, she would smile and nod but never really care. He was starting to understand how Anna had ended up in her current position, where she wanted desperately to be close to her sister, and though there was no obvious obstacle, she couldn't seem to get through the icy shell formed years before his arrival. What chance did he have if her own, once-beloved sister couldn't get through to her?

The evening passed much as he expected. Elsa made the rounds as a hostess ought to, as did Anna in her own rambunctious, unconventional and slightly mortifying way. He spent most of the time trading stories with the naval officers.

Shortly before midnight, the Crown Princess wished her guests a safe journey home and goodnight, effectively drawing the evening to a close. She bid individual goodbyes as her guests filed out, with Hans and Anna by her side, and darted back to her own room as soon as the last one was back in their carriage. With a sigh, the two redheads – of varying vibrancy – trudged up to their rooms, making small talk and wishing each other goodnight at her door. Hans entered his own room, tugging off his cravat and wandering over to the window.

The sky was completely clear and the moon bright. Transfixed by the beauty of the unobscured night sky, he pushed open the glass door and wandered onto his terrace. He smiled up at the beautiful view, spying an owl streaking silently by, recognisable only as a silhouette. There one moment and beyond the castle boundaries the next. He was about to sigh loudly, envious of the bird's freedom; it could go where it liked when it liked, it hadn't been banished to this frigid kingdom by its duty-bound parents, nor married off to a she-owl who wanted nothing to do with it. Before he could, though, he heard a quiet intake of breath. As he had done that morning, he looked around, again catching a glimpse of a woman on the balcony attached to Elsa's room.

He stayed frozen where he was, squinting through the screen of wood and sticks on the near edge of her outdoor space. She walked to the railing and placed her hands, one atop the other, on the carved stone, sighing. She was wearing the same clothes as before, but the tiara and possibly the necklace were gone, and her hair fell down her back in a thick braid, the shorter hair at the front tousled and dancing slightly in the arctic breeze. Hans fought a shiver and she sighed again, before she did something unexpected. Princess Elsa smiled serenely, the moon illuminating her relaxed features and glinting off her perfect teeth. Bathed in moonlight, she looked ghostly, as though she were a creature of the night, a vision that would fade with the coming of the sun. And this smiling Elsa enjoying the view likely would.

Shocking him further, she drew breath once more and started to sing quietly. Hans was transfixed. Any thought he had of retreating to the warmth of his rooms evaporated. Her voice was strong, dancing from high to low notes without strain, clear and effortless.

 _When the moon was full,  
My lovely, she stayed by my side,  
When the stars shone brightly,  
Our hearts did freely collide._

 _When the sun came calling,  
She said that she'd shortly return,  
But as the moon fled nightly,  
My lovely left me lonely to burn._

 _Left with the stars alone,  
My lovely at long last sent word,  
Solitude suited her rightly,  
My lovely turned slowly to stone._

The final, melancholy note hung in the air, the only sounds now the subdued rustling of leaves and sedate lapping of the waves against stone. Elsa stood for an immeasurable moment, staring longingly at the sky, before retiring and closing the door quietly behind her. Hans stayed where he was, leaning against the cold, smooth stone of the outer wall of the castle. He didn't recognise the words she was singing, but the tune was somehow familiar, niggling at the back of his mind. At length, he dimly recalled a music box where his mother kept some of her keepsakes from childhood that twinkled the same or a similar melody, decorated in the Arendelle style. Perhaps he would mention it in his next letter to his mother.

The song seemed so depressing, speaking of a lovely woman who isolated herself until she 'turned to stone', presumably meaning she poetically died. Did his wife identify with the woman from the song? She was lovely, and had little company to speak of by her own fault.

He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. He had been feeling rather fed up with her, resolving to leave her to her own devices, at least for a while. Ethereal beauty and air of vulnerability be damned. With one tragic folk song, he was resolved to be a friend to her all over again. But he needed a new plan of attack.


End file.
